


Fire And Ice

by asynje



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-18
Updated: 2010-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:32:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asynje/pseuds/asynje
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A journey through frost and ice toward an unknown destination. Hiding is easy. Talking is hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ginnumgagab: Fog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sean realises that he is attracted to Viggo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stanza in the beginning is taken from _Voluspa_. It tells of the creation of the world. The yawning gap is called _Ginnungagab_ and it is filled with fog from the mixing of the fires of _Muspelheim_ and the ice of _Niflheim_.

3\. Of old was the age | when Ymir lived;  
Sea nor cool waves | nor sand there were;  
Earth had not been, | nor heaven above,  
But a yawning gap, | and grass nowhere.

 

Sean does not understand what is happening.  
It is as if he has disappeared, leaving nothing behind but emptiness and longing.

He has always felt pretty secure about who and what he was. Hell, he made it through RADA didn't he; stood up for himself back home when he was mocked for wanting to be an actor. Had the scars to prove it even.

But this-

This is slowly eating away at him, confusing him.

This being his –

He can recognize lust when he meets it. Lust _and other things_ and that is what it is.

But this is wrong and strange and scares him half to death.

For the images that start out nice and normal, when he closes his eyes to let his mind take away the loneliness of his own hands in bed at night   
_curved buttocks, swelling breasts, long necks arching_   
suddenly changes.  
And he cannot fool himself any longer.

 

During the day they talk and work and play, acting as silly as the young ones, and during the nights he gets himself off to thoughts of how Viggo's hands and mouth would feel on his skin. On his cock.

Sean is disgusted by himself. Not so much because of the – wanting it – as for wanting Viggo. His mate. When he makes Viggo shake with laughter, he sits with a smile on his face and a sinking feeling in his stomach, feeling like a traitor.  
Viggo is his friend and yet he – yet he uses him like that.  
Lies to him.  
Betrays him.

And because honesty matters – a lesson learned too late perhaps, but learned oh so well – and because Viggo is his mate and once spent hours talking to Sean after they had had to ride that godforsaken chopper and he couldn't stop shaking– hours even though the view was spectacular and Viggo must have  
been dying to rush off with his camera – because of this and all those other moments he sits him down one night and tells him.

 

Viggo is quiet but attentive, peering at Sean as if trying to figure him out. Sean tries to explain, wrestling with words he isn't even sure he has.  
"It's not that I'm queer, it's just –"

"Why me?"  
Viggo's voice is softer than usual and Sean doesn't know what to say.   
Doesn't know anything anymore it seems. Merely shrugs and says nothing.

Then Viggo gets up from his chair and Sean closes his eyes, expecting the shattering impact of a blow to his jaw, or the cold air of Viggo walking past him, leaving.  
Not expecting soft lips to brush against his own.  
Not expecting the jolt of lust, making him hard.  
Not expecting his own hands to drag Viggo down.

 

That was how it happened.

 

He never asked Viggo about his past. His experience with other men. Knew he wouldn't like the answer either way.

He never volunteered any information about that one time way back and how bad he had felt afterwards even though it had only been a wank. Because they had never spoken afterwards and now he hardly remembers the guy's name. And that doesn't seem right.

Viggo will go down on him, will touch him, will offer himself up to Sean. And Sean takes and touches and kisses in return. And they never speak of what will happen later.

And Sean knows that it isn't just lust, knows it with the certainty of heartbeat and blood. Knows it lying awake at night, looking at Viggo sleeping.  
And the joy of having _owning_ is the brightest flame.  
But the fear of loss is burning cold. And it chills him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes (in part):  
> Disclaimer: This is so not true. It's all pretty lies. Pretty, sparkly lies.  
> Feedback: Yes please. Leave a note here or mail me at asynje AT skumring.dk  
> Archive: [](http://community.livejournal.com/rugbytackle/profile)[**rugbytackle**](http://community.livejournal.com/rugbytackle/), my own lj. Others, please ask. I am sure we can work something out.  
> Beta: The loverly [](http://jennandanica.livejournal.com/profile)[**jennandanica**](http://jennandanica.livejournal.com/). All hail.  
> Warnings: Somewhat angsty


	2. Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sean doesn't know if he's in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place in Fredriksberg Have in Copenhagen. Why? – Beats me.

It was silly. Sean knew it and yet he couldn't stop himself. Couldn't _not_ move half a step away from Viggo when he felt fingers whisper down his arm.   
Viggo pretended not to notice and turned to look at the herons but Sean could tell that it hurt him. That he was hurting him. By not being there. By trying to hide. By stepping away.  
And he knew that it was silly.   
They were practically alone here, standing on the narrow wooden bridge overlooking the water. Nobody cared.   
Nobody looked.   
And yet he couldn't bring himself to relax, to receive Viggo's small caresses.

It hadn't been like that in New Zealand. He'd felt freer there. Safe.   
Now, in the harsh light of what had increasingly become the real world to him as opposed to the world they had lived in then it was just different.

And it wasn't just him.

He hadn't thought about the photos at first but it had dawned on him that Viggo kept taking pictures of him now. Putting the camera between them, creating distance. And Sean couldn't even complain about it – seeing as how he was the one who felt uncomfortable kissing/holding hands/sitting close/fucking with the windows open – and the whole thing was just too frustrating.

And then he said it.

Just like that.

"Maybe we should call it quits."

Not a question. Just a statement that fell from his lips – _never leave lips unguarded _– and made Viggo turn and look at him.

Sean couldn't tell anything from the look in Viggo's eyes. Or the softness of his voice.

"Is that what you want?"

"I'm making you miserable, aren't I? Doesn't seem worth it then."

He's perfected this over the years. Accepts the blame readily – _ I'm shite with relationships – and I know it _– and is completely unprepared for being slammed against the railing, unprepared for Viggo's hot breath on his face.

"Don't you dare tell me what is worthwhile for me! Don't you dare."

Viggo's voice is still low-pitched, but the softness is gone, leaving strain and pain and then Sean kisses him – because they _are _ practically alone and maybe he was hoping somehow that his offer would go unheeded – _tell me you want me – tell me it can work_– and Viggo's mouth turns soft, the hardness dissolving beneath Sean's lips and then Sean's hand is taken and he follows Viggo – willingly – as he heads off towards their hotel, not seeing the green of the trees and the light on the water and the people who are looking now. Seeing these things would mean taking his eyes off Viggo and he doesn't want to do that. Not when his words have just split the ground open and he still doesn't know whether it will swallow him up whole or let him live.

Back at the hotel Viggo pulls at Sean's clothes and drops small burning kisses all over his face and chest. The feel of Viggo's lips and teeth is more present and undeniable than anything Sean can remember feeling these last few weeks and when they're finally both naked - the slide of skin on skin – he knows for certain that neither of them is hiding now.

Moving inside Viggo dampens the feel of closeness for Viggo got on his hands and knees on the bed and Sean can't see his face, hidden behind hair and shoulders. He can't tell whether Viggo has gone back to hiding or is merely being practical. He wants to ask Viggo but it comes out as gasps and when Sean comes he feels something inside tear lose, like a chunk of melting ice falling off into a river.

Viggo is dripping wet but his face is still turned away. Sean could tell himself that the moistness on Viggo's cheeks is just sweat but he knows he would be lying. And he doesn't know what to say or what to do – _he never does_ – and Viggo seems distant all of a sudden and Sean doesn't want that. But what can he do?

They take turns using the bathroom and end up on the bed, next to each other; not touching.  
Sean considers saying something but keeps quiet. There isn't much to say, is there?

Then Viggo's voice breaks the silence and for a moment Sean can't breathe.   
He's always reacted like that – felt trapped like that – when they went and said it. Because there are only so many times you can get away with just saying mmhmm.   
And Viggo deserves better than that.   
He deserves honesty.   
And Sean gives it to him.   
Says: "I don't know if I love you. I wish I knew."  
Doesn't say he wishes he knew he did for sure. Doesn't even think it. Not really. Just feels it at the edge of the currents, right underneath the ice.

Viggo stays quiet and Sean falls asleep, curling up next to him, nose buried in Viggo's neck.

When he wakes up the bed is empty.

It's for the best. It is. It wouldn't have worked, he tells himself as he showers and dresses.  
Then he hurls a chair across the room and tries to make the sound of its legs breaking against the wall mean something.   
The ice inside is still there.   
Not visible in the mirror but weighing him down. And without thinking he is suddenly walking briskly, back towards the park, the garden they were in yesterday.

Viggo is standing on the bridge again. It feels wrong, seeing him standing there from afar. As a stranger. Sean walks up to him, wishing there was some easy way to do this. To change ice into a mellow river, like the one Viggo's gaze is transfixed at.

He starts to say –_ something _– but Viggo cuts him off. It doesn't matter, he says. It's okay. But it isn't. And Sean can't help himself, leans forward and kisses Viggo, who squirms and tries to move away and then gives in, sighing into Sean's mouth. Sean knows that the ice will melt but Viggo's eyes have gone distant. And Sean fears that it may be too late.

He lets go of Viggo and they stand there, in silence, not touching, looking at the herons. Sean knows that this is what he wanted, what he asked for. And he doesn't look at Viggo until it's time to go get lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes (in part):
> 
> Disclaimer: This is so not true. It's all pretty lies. Pretty, sparkly lies.  
> Feedback: Yes please. Leave a note here or mail me at asynje AT skumring.dk  
> Archive: [](http://community.livejournal.com/rugbytackle/profile)[**rugbytackle**](http://community.livejournal.com/rugbytackle/), my own lj. Others, please ask. I am sure we can work something out.  
> Beta: The wonderful [](http://jennandanica.livejournal.com/profile)[**jennandanica**](http://jennandanica.livejournal.com/) and [](http://moldava.livejournal.com/profile)[**moldava**](http://moldava.livejournal.com/). All hail.   
> All remaining mistakes and oddities are mine. Mine, I tell you ;)  
> Warnings: Break-up


	3. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sean still doesn't know if he's in love. But he's got to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Rimming. And kissing. In that order.

After they went their separate ways it should have been over and done with.  
But it wasn't.

Sean started dreaming of Viggo at night. Long, rushed dreams where he ran wildly through forests and hallways, looking for Viggo, only to find him behind unbreakable glass, ice-cold to the touch. And wet dreams that had him waking up painfully aroused or already spent, visions of Viggo's sweat-slicked body and the ghost-feel of his hands and mouth burning Sean's skin. Those dreams were by far the worst. They left him lying in bed with burning eyes and empty hands and a taste of bile in his mouth. They made him  
want to tear the phone off the hook and just call. Reason and pride and time zones be damned.

He did call eventually. They had an awkward chat about work and just before he hung up he managed to squeeze an "I'm sorry" in. The line went quiet for a heartbeat and then Viggo said: "Don't worry about it, Sean", and Sean felt the finality of the ice closing over his head, the water sucking all air from his lungs.

It was agony. Pure and simple. He tried to reason with himself, telling himself that it was for the best. That this was the solution that would bring the least pain to Viggo. To both of them. But the intensity of his longing dwarfed reason. And it consumed Sean.

When the time for the London premiere of Return of the King rolled round Sean spent weeks debating with himself whether he should go or not. In the end he made the decision without even realising it consciously, dressing up in black and emerald, applying after shave with somewhat shaky hands,   
remembering his keys but forgetting his cell phone.

*

The movie is breathtaking and seeing everybody again is wonderful and overwhelming. At the party afterwards Sean stays clear of Viggo, catching up with everybody else, looking at him from across the room. He hadn't expected him to be there, knowing how Viggo detest these things. He merely hoped. He  
makes sure to keep him in the corner of his eye always, scared that if he turns his back for just a second, Viggo will leave and his chance to patch it up - _his last and only chance – forever and ever and ever_ \- will be gone.

Then, finally, they end up in the same corner and Sean realises that the reason Viggo isn't hiding behind his camera tonight is that he has chosen to hide behind scotch instead. Even drunk his eyes become guarded when he realises that it's Sean who's standing in front of him. Sean can feel his own voice go soft as if he is afraid that Viggo will bolt  
and run if startled.

"Where are your shoes, Viggo?"

Viggo merely shrugs and mumbles something that could be a "I don't know", looking away and swaying.  
Sean steadies him with a hand on his arm and asks:

"Don't you think I should take you home now?"

This time Viggo looks at him, and carefully says:

"You can't. We're in London."

"I meant your hotel room, Viggo. Or…"

Here Sean hesitates for a second but he must try – must at least make one attempt before giving up for good –

"Or my place".

Viggo looks at him and then he looks down, swaying slightly and putting more weight on Sean.

"You don't want me there. You said."

Sean steps closer, putting his arms around Viggo without realizing it and whispers:

"I'm so sorry. I am so sorry for hurting you like that. I never meant for that to happen. It was just. You scared me. And I tried to run away. And I am so sorry."

He doesn't even realize that his eyes have gotten misty before Viggo's clumsy fingers connects with his skin, trying to dry the tears. Viggo's mumbled:

"Mustn't cry Sean. You mustn't."

almost makes him laugh but he settles for saying:

"Stop being such a saint."

And whacking Viggo very lightly on the arm.

Then Viggo smiles at him and the room disappears and Sean is tongue-tied. Can do nothing but let his hands move slowly up and down Viggo's arms and sides, trying to make the movements speak for themselves. For a moment he doesn't even realises that Viggo has said okay. That he wants Sean to  
take him home. Home.

 

In the lift down to the ground floor Viggo moves away and Sean feels it as a physical blow. Then he realises that Viggo is just trying to be considerate, sparing Sean the embarrassment of being seen in a tight embrace with another man. Sean takes one look at the others in the lift and decides that he's done with hiding. And so he reels Viggo back in and kisses him gently just below the ear where his skin is soft and thin and the burning blood beneath is easily felt. And there is nothing awkward about it for the moment. Sean's lips connects with Viggo's neck and he forgets about the rest of the world – even the part of the rest of the world they're sharing a lift with. Nothing matters other than the small sighs he is coaxing from Viggo, holding him tight.

*

The cab-ride is agony and Sean cannot keep his hands away from Viggo. He must touch him, stroking his thigh and hands to make sure that he is really there.

At the front door it takes Sean forever to get the key in the lock. His fingers are almost shaking and it feels as if something is coming lose inside. Not torn apart. Not crashing down. Slowly and steadily dripping, making him want to run his lips all over Viggo's face. Making him want to say something, do something, so that Viggo will know that Sean has learned that he cannot do this casually. That he has learned that he needs to be here. Now.

"I want you to make love to me. I want to feel you inside of me."  
Sean is breathless but he is sure of this. He wants it.

Viggo's smile is slow and luminous but he shakes his head no.  
"I'm too drunk for that Sean. Need to sleep. Can I do that?"

Sean nods and continues to undress Viggo, only stopping to kiss bared skin, To breathe Viggo's scent in. He is a little disappointed but he will get to hold Viggo, and that is good too.

 

*

Sean awakes three hours later, bathed in sweat. He'd forgotten how sleeping next to Viggo was like lying next to a small but insistent furnace.

He gets up to take a leak and when he returns Viggo is sitting up in bed, eyes wild.

"You left."

Sean feels his heart catch in his throat and then the words come, sparks from the fire that burns so brightly now.  
Again.  
Because Viggo is back.

"I love you."

Viggo blinks owlishly at him and then he smiles that slow smile again and pats on the mattress next to him.

"Come here."

And Sean obeys, sliding onto the bed, into the warmth surrounding Viggo, burying his face in the crook of Viggo's neck. But Viggo takes hold of his chin and whispers:

"No more hiding, okay?"

and he moves to look into Viggo's eyes instead, so close that all he sees is blurry colour.  
And the looking turns to kissing, wet and open-mouthed and that would be enough right now.  
The feel and the taste and the knowledge of Viggo.  
Here.  
Back.  
Real.  
In his bed.  
Making him moan.  
Making him want to be closer, always closer.

"Turn over. There's something I wanna try."

Viggo's voice is husky and Sean can feel sweat breaking out on his back, can feel his cock swelling and throbbing.

"Is it a punishment for being an arse?" he asks, only half-way joking and starts when Viggo's tongue suddenly travels down his spine, lapping at the beads of sweat, making him squirm. Viggo hums and then Sean loses his breath as Viggo's tongue dips lower, squeezing in between his buttocks, broad strokes wet and warm and too much, too intimate. Sean hears himself, sounding like a wild thing, frantic and needy, but cannot recognize his own voice.

His face is aflame, shame and lust mixing and he can't tell what is what, can only gasp and moan and press against Viggo's face, the feel of his nose pressed against him oddly enough the most erotic.  
Because he is so close then.  
So deep.

Then Viggo's hand snakes up to grab hold of Sean's erection and he loses all thought, all sense of self and suddenly he isn't afraid any more. When he comes and comes apart Viggo's arms encircle him and all he can do for what seems like forever is to whisper: "I love you. I love you" as if the words have been frozen as well and now rush from him, foam-white and unbound.

Slowly he realises that Viggo has gone back to sleep and so Sean lies awake, alone, trying to get used to his own scent on Viggo's face, dark and hidden.   
But not threatening.  
Not anymore.  
He wipes Viggo's mouth, gently, so as not to wake him up and then he leans in to press a soft kiss on warm, lax lips. Viggo makes a small sound and Sean settles down, choosing warm sticky flesh over cleanliness and a cold bathroom.

There's plenty of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes:  
> Disclaimer: This is so not true. It's all pretty lies. Pretty, sparkly lies.  
> Feedback: Yes please. Leave a note here or mail me at asynje@skumring.dk  
> Archive: [](http://community.livejournal.com/rugbytackle/profile)[**rugbytackle**](http://community.livejournal.com/rugbytackle/), my own lj. Others, please ask. I am sure  
> we can work something out.  
> Beta: The loverly [](http://jennandanica.livejournal.com/profile)[**jennandanica**](http://jennandanica.livejournal.com/). All hail.


	4. World-Tree: Dew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sean takes another leap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stanza in the beginning is taken from _Voluspa_ and descrices the Norse axis mundi – the World Tree.
> 
> Warning: love

19\. An ash I know, | Yggdrasil its name,  
With water white | is the great tree wet;  
Thence come the dews | that fall in the dales,  
Green by Urth's well | does it ever grow.

The sky is still dark but the cooling sheets wake Sean.  
The absence of heat.

Viggo!

The moment he sits up and turns the bedside light on he hears the toilet flush and he starts breathing again.

 

He hasn't left.  
Viggo is still here.

 

The door creaks open.

 

In the light falling in from the hallway Viggo's backlit body looks like an angel's, naked, winged by shadows, the only thing missing a flaming sword.  
When he enters the glowing circle stretching over the bed, he merely looks tired and worn, darkness pooling beneath red-rimmed eyes.

"M sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up."

 

Sean waves his hands dismissively and then stretch them out. Beckoning. And Viggo comes to him. Crawls onto the bed and settles down, head on Sean's chest and Sean is surprised by the ease with which the words flow from him now, spilling like water, leaving no visible stain anywhere but inside himself.

 

"I love you."

 

Viggo doesn't answer but he moves closer, letting his lips glide over Sean's chest, wetly caressing a nipple with his tongue. And Sean shudders, not so much from the sensation as from thinking of Viggo's tongue. Earlier.

Viggo looks up at him.  
"Did I freak you out? Back there?"

Sean almost says no, but then he smiles and nods, feeling a blush spread, heating his cheeks.  
"A little. But it was-"  
He leans down, kisses Viggo, feeling the slick glide of moist tongues, whispering into his mouth:  
"It was brilliant. It was – You were so close. I've dreamt about having you that close, about you making love to me. I want you to. I want you to – I want to give myself to you."

 

He can feel the hitch in Viggo's breath and an insistent throbbing against his thigh but Viggo's hands are remarkably calm and gentle, stroking Sean's arms, his face.

"You don't have to. We don't have to rush things."

Sean wiggles down until they're face to face.

"Do you want to?"

It's a hard question to ask but seeing the light in Viggo's eyes, the movement of his throat as he swallows – it makes asking easy and Sean itch all over.

"Yes. God, yes. I -"

Viggo stops and look into Sean's eyes, sinking into the green until he can taste it, until Sean starts squirming – _but not breaking eye-contact – no – never again _\- weighed down by Viggo's gaze and then Viggo says it, stealing all other sounds in the room, making the words reverberate through Sean's chest and throat and cock.

_I want you_   
_I need you_

And suddenly "caution" is just a word. As are "slow" and "careful" for they both want _need_ this and waiting is impossible.

Sean captures Viggo's fingers with his mouth and licks them. Wets them. When Viggo finally deems it to be sufficient Sean is already short of breath and dizzy. He doesn't care much for the feel of Viggo's finger's slowly being pushed inside him. It's the thought _knowledge_ of it that makes him moan and push back, probably tearing something in his eagerness.

His own lust crushes him and he can feel how he shatters against the mattress, against Viggo's hands.  
And he wants to.

And then Viggo moves and – oh – it hurts but it doesn't matter, because finally.   
Finally.

 

He can feel Viggo's sweat drumming on his back, mixing with his own, making them glide against each other, removing friction to the point of melting together, moving like waves. And long before he comes from Viggo's hand stroking him, from Viggo moving behind _inside of _ him he is already there, gone, brilliant flashes blinding him. And Viggo's voice in his ears, his heart, his mind.

 

_I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes (in part):  
> Disclaimer: This is so not true. It's all pretty lies. Pretty, sparkly lies.  
> Feedback: Yes please. Leave a note here or mail me at asynje@skumring.dk  
> Archive: [](http://community.livejournal.com/rugbytackle/profile)[**rugbytackle**](http://community.livejournal.com/rugbytackle/), my own lj. Others, please ask. I am sure we can work something out.  
> Beta: The loverly [](http://jennandanica.livejournal.com/profile)[**jennandanica**](http://jennandanica.livejournal.com/). All hail.


End file.
